


Do I Love You, Or Do I Not?

by riverknowshisname



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen, Hunger Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverknowshisname/pseuds/riverknowshisname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mockingjay, from Peeta's POV</p><p>This is a one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do I Love You, Or Do I Not?

I don't know what the Capitol has done to me, but I can't seem to figure it out. I can’t seem to understand Katniss Everdeen. They say I loved her. Frankly, there's a part of me that I think still does. Not all of my dreams are nightmares, and not all my daydreams are about killing her. I remember nights on the train...where the only thing to comfort us both was each other. I remember being on that roof before the Quarter Quell. I remember the bread. I told her as much. I must've really loved her, no, I still do. But I don't.

Everything surrounding her confuses me. But the way she looks at me. It sends a shiver through my spine and not a bad one. The way she looks at me when she looks so broken and hurting, I just want to reach out to her. To hold her. Not her neck. Not to strangle her. But just to hold her. I want to tell her that everything will be okay. That the part of me that loves her is still here, it's just fighting a crippling battle with the part that hates her. And maybe it's not even hate. It's anger. She's ignored me. She's abandoned me. And I can't explain why that hurts. I can't explain how much it makes me resent her. I can't explain anything. She brushed my hair the other night. What it made me feel, I can't rightly explain. But today, just moments ago she'd kissed me, full on the mouth. And I'm taken back to that beach. To that kiss. The one that confuses me the most. Through the memories I can sort out as real, I knew she loved me. Perhaps that's why it broke my heart to let her leave me the last night in the arena. But it was almost as if she'd forgotten that, almost as if I'd lost her completely...almost like my heart was breaking.

I can't sort through much, but I get glimpses. Memories. Like the blood poisoning comment the other night. I remember that. And when she kissed me...that "always"...it came from the part that loves her. The part that I cannot explain. But it's the first time since I told her about the bread and the dandelion, that she hasn't broken down. Maybe she's gotten over me. She has Gale now anyways. They seem pretty chummy, but they always were. And I resented him for it. I hated Gale Hawthorne. I think I still do. That feeling hasn't disappeared. Fiancée. One of the words, given to me, to describe Katniss. Fiancée. An emotionally driven relationship choice. I think she was disappointed we didn't actually get married, or did we? That's a point I'm not sure about either. But I don't think I could ask her about it without causing her to have a panic attack.

At night, I long for her touch. For the smell of her hair. For the sweet kisses that made me think that maybe she cared more for me than she thought. I died in that arena. I can remember her sobbing over me, and I don't think that Katniss would ever kill me. But this one. The one who is in my life, right now, sometimes I think she wouldn't hesitate to end my life. But then she looks at me. Not with eyes full of pity, but of frustration. Of pain. Of excruciating circumstances. Of having to face me in my messed up state. There's love in those eyes. That's why she hasn't killed me. That's why she's refused to give me the option. Katniss Everdeen loves me, not a little tiny bit, but a lot. She may not know it, or refuses to believe it because my memories are so jumbled...but then she kissed me. It was such a natural moment.

"Nobody needs me." I'd told her that in the arena, and she'd said she did. That she needed me. I can't even explain what I felt in that moment. It's what I'd always longed to hear. But she's given up on me. And I guess I'm going to have to learn how to live with that.           

* * *

 

One of those days, I spoke with Gale. I know Katniss heard us. I know when she's sleeping, and when she's not. I didn't protest Gales reasoning for how she would choose between us, perhaps because the only thing that would come to me was that she already had. That she'd chosen me in that arena, and everyday since. But no. She ignored me. She abandoned me. So why do I feel this way? Do I still love Katniss Everdeen? Yes. In the same way? I don't know. Sometimes I get glimpses of how I loved her. But that's all they are. Glimpses. But they are powerful. The feeling rushes over me so quickly and so forcefully that I have to inflict some sort of pain on myself to keep me from charging at her with my lips, not my hands. I miss her. I miss the way she would hold me. I miss her presence beside me. I don't know what the Capitol did to me to make me forget, to mess up all the memories they could get their hands on, of my love for Katniss and make me forget I loved her. How was that even possible? The one thing they didn't plan on…was all the memories they weren't privy too. All the days and sleepless nights we would spend in the others embrace. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, please don't burn out. 

* * *

 

It's been a few months now. My memories are coming back, but there are still thoughts that make me throw things. I haven't seen her in a few days. I planted some primroses for her. In honor of her sister, she died. There's not one person alive or dead that she loved more than Prim. But she's been so sad lately, so closed off to everything, that I have to fight the urge to burst into her house and make her okay again. But how do I do that? What would Peeta do? What smooth thing would the other Peeta say? How can I make anything better for her? I hate the Capitol. Why did they hate Katniss and I so much? Because we wouldn't sit still and be pieces in their game? Because we were a team. Because I would die for her, and she me. But right now I would give anything to make this right. But I don't know what to do. 

* * *

 

Slowly she lets me back in. Slowly. Agonizingly slow. But I know that she's worth it. I'd always known that. Perhaps that's why I'd let myself be used, because I knew that at some time she would choose me. That she would be mine. This time because I asked her to, not because we were "politely" ordered to. This time she didn't suggest it. I did. I slipped the pearl from her stash and had it placed into a classic band and it was with that ring that I, past Peeta and present Peeta, baker, victor, loving Peeta asked her to be my wife. I thought she'd take some coaxing. In fact I was certain it would take a lot of coaxing. But she said yes. Immediately.

I suppose real love can conquer all. That Katniss and I, despite it all, we're really star crossed lovers. Because we didn't have it easy and our relationship was always on screen, but now. The rebels have won. We still live in Victors Village with Haymitch. Him and Greasy Sae were the only ones at our wedding. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that Katniss Everdeen was mine. And no one will ever spilt us up again. 

* * *

 

Today as we sit, her on my lap, watching our children play. We know it was all worth it. Because if we can weather The Hunger Games, twice, my hijacking and her depression, then there is nothing that can stop us. Not one thing. Because we need each other. And I suppose in a way we always have. But for once, we know why. It's not because our love story is tragic, even though it is, it's because when it all ends. When the war has been won and everyone goes about with their lives, however distressed, the girl on fire and the boy with the bread were destined to be together. I knew that from the beginning, it took her a little longer. But she knows like I know. When all else is taken away, when everything is broken, we remain. We don't play real or not real very often anymore because we’ve more than made up for the lost memories, but as I wrap my arms around her waist I ask, just one more time.

 

"You love me. Real or not real?"

 

"Real," she says.

 

And that makes everything else worthwhile.


End file.
